


The Holophrastic Stage

by blueoleandar93



Series: Some Assembly Required [6]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Anxiety, Crying babies, Depression, Dude talk, Extramarital crushes, F/M, Family Drama, Gaslighting, M/M, Mentions of psychological abuse, Reid in workout pants, Seemingly unrequited love, Uneducated speech about anxiety, also emotions, also once again reid in workout pants, also words, amirite ladies?, doctor's visits, doing the nasty to avoid having a conversation, mentions of m/f getting down, mentions of physical abuse, that part is very important
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-19 04:59:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14867063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueoleandar93/pseuds/blueoleandar93
Summary: In the sixth installment of Some Assembly Required, a routine trip to the pediatrician causes Derek Morgan to change the way he looks at his home life. Reid re-enters Morgan's life after back to back cases, Hank is five-months-old, and they finally get around to that shopping trip they've had on hold.





	The Holophrastic Stage

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a while, I know. My cat broke my computer during the winter and I'm poor, so I wrote half of this on my phone over the past few months and when I got the money to get a new laptop, I've been editing like crazy. This is kind of a mess, just a warning lol. I wrote a bunch more of this, but it's all out of order and I just need Jesus honestly. 
> 
> This first place takes place in a pediatrician's office, but the gag is... I don't know what the hell I'm talking about when it comes to medical shit or baby development, but I researched a bit and hope what I got is right, but no promises. My English degree is useless in here lmao. 
> 
> I decided to write this section in Derek's POV because I miss writing his POV and honestly I was too curious about hearing his side of the story. 
> 
>  
> 
> Also, TRIGGER WARNING!!!!  
> \- Derek Morgan has anxiety and depression  
> \- Savannah isn't a sweet person in this fic, she's psychologically abusive.  
> \- Lots of people aren't into a fanfic writer demonizing a woman to advance the plot, but come on, y'all. I'm writing a nanny!fic with a Moreid endgame and Morgan's too nice of a guy to cheat and this is a drama, so..........  
> A/N: I suffer from both anxiety and depression, and as an African American under the autism spectrum, I grew up surrounded by a lot of mental illnesses that went untreated within the Black community -- including mine. There are generations upon generations of families that go without treatment, therapy, and more because of the lack of respect given to the sufferers. 
> 
> Given our history of hard work, breaking stereotypes, and rising above challenges, we were often told that there was no time for us to be sick. We were told that we had to work our fingers to the bone to get just a fraction of the respect that we saw freely given to others. We were told that we are always on stage and must create the appearance of stability, strength, and integrity even while suffering. Any injury was an inconvenience, and if your mental health was in danger, it wasn't seen as important because it may be easy to hide. 
> 
> When writing Derek Morgan's character, I made a special point to write him as a man with anxiety/depression because given his history in the show, it wouldn't be OOC for him to develop these disorders. He watched his father die as a child, experienced racism early in his life (and into the field), he was abused by a man he trusted, and the list goes on and on. It wouldn't be reaching to assume he could absorb several traumatic situations, maintain such a violent job, and still put on such a strong face without there being something under the surface. He is human after all, and he's not above developing certain conditions due to trauma. Plus, with his history of childhood abuse, it would not be out of character for him to fall into a relationship with abusive partners long term. He may know what's going on, but he has his own issues with being raised by a single mother and his own reasons for staying in his current relationship, up to and including wanting to keep a two person household for his child. Plus, he's such a martyr on the show and super willing to put up with whatever to keep the people he loves safe and happy even to his own detriment. 
> 
> Derek Morgan is such a multi-layered character and I truly love writing for him, I just want to make sure y'all know that before I put him through any more painful situations.
> 
> Plus, back on his anxiety... I mean, he also had like two anxiety attacks on screen and had a place in his mind ready to retreat to when he was being tortured which is a common coping mechanism for those with mental disorders, so it is canon, but since no one ever said it on the show it is technically subtext that he suffers from anxiety/depression. But, like, let's be real okay. He's got it.
> 
> ******Savannah's speech and Morgan's train of thought might be a lot for some readers to handle, so PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION!! There was a part I cut because I worried it would be too much. It needs work and editing, so please bear with me. I love you all and want to thank you for sticking with this story. XOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Keyshia Cole was blasting through Morgan’s car speakers as he headed to the pediatrician’s office. It was 9am, and Hank was snoozing in his car seat as Morgan sang along to _I Remember_ , tapping his thumbs on the steering wheel. He merged into the left lane so that he could turn into the office parking lot, leaning into the wheel as he sang out, “I remember when my heart broke! I remember when I gave up loving you! My heart couldn’t take no more of you, I was sad and lonely! I remember when I walked out. I remember when I-- _shit_ .” Morgan honked his horn hard and hissed at the car in front of him, “Come on, man. You got a turn signal, right? Move your ass. _God_.”

"Oh, oh, okay! So, we're doing this now, huh?" Morgan rolled his eyes as a blue Honda Civic cut him off, rolling down his window to stick his middle finger out of the window with a huge fake smile on his face as he turned into the parking lot. It was filled to the brim with cars. Wonderful. Perfect. Morgan hissed, hunching over the wheel and creeping through the parking lot for an empty spot. Two rows in, I Wanna Be Down by Brandy started playing and Morgan forgot his annoyance immediately, rolling his body in his seat, “I would like to get to know if I could be. The kind of girl that you could be down for -- “ Morgan glanced at his sleeping baby in the rear view mirror, “Okay, dude, you never heard me say that.” Morgan continued to rock as he searched for a spot, “Tell me! That you’re the kind of guy I should make a move on, yeah, ooh!! And, if I don’t let you know, then I won’t be for real! I could be wrong, but I feel like something could be going on! The more I see you, the more that it becomes so true. There ain’t no other for me, it’s only you. I WANNA BE DOWN WITH WHAT YOU’RE GOING THROUGH. I WANNA BE DOWN! I WANNA BE DOWN WITH YOU!”

After Morgan parked and opened the backseat car door, Hank woke up cranky, doing that little wind up cry where he just gurgles and whimpers. Morgan held him to his chest as he pulled him out of the car seat, holding him to his heart and bouncing him just a little bit, “Sssh… ssh, kid, it’s okay. It’s all good. You’re about to see Doctor Cervantes. Remember Doc C? You love her. Hell, I love her too. She’s quick and painless. Well, almost. Gotta get you a couple of shots today to keep your immune system nice and strong, but they hurt like a motherfucker and you’re about to really hate Daddy. So, let’s keep the crying to a minimum before the needles come out, okay, Cool Man?”

Letting out a little coo against his chest, Hank’s whines turned into mumbles.

“Hell yeah, baby. Now, we’re cooking with gas.” Morgan sighed with relief, strapping Hank into his chest carrier, murmuring, “Thank God too. I’m not walking in _and out_ with you crying, Hankie. It’s bad form. We Morgan men are classy. I don’t know how many times I gotta tell you.”

Hank rubbed his cheek against Morgan’s heart and yawned, babbling a little bit more. He was doing that more often lately, letting out little sounds and consonants that don’t really mean anything. Last week, Reid said that Hank is getting a hold of language. The baby notices that Morgan and Savannah and Reid communicate effectively between each other using mouth sounds, and after interacting with the outside world, Hank is realizing that he needs to make mouth sounds too so that he can talk back to them. Usually babies don’t babble until they’re five months old, so it was pretty exciting considering he was two weeks early when he started to babble. Well, it was for Reid. The young doctor zoomed into the kitchen with the baby in his arms as he was babbling and Reid pointed to Hank’s fuzzy, round head, “He’s on his way to reaching the holophrastic stage!! Listen! He’s saying goorababa over and over! It’s repetitive! He’s using patterns! He’ll be saying his first word soon! And, then he'll be on to full sentences! And, when he's on to full sentences, we'll be able to have _conversations_ and get to know him!This is so exciting! I’m freaking out. Are you freaking out? Oh, my God, I’m freaking out.” Morgan had to take the baby from Reid for a second to give him a hug. _Reid_ , not the baby. Hank was fine. Reid was talking himself into a circle, launching himself into that notion he has that Hank is a genius. Not that Hank isn’t smart and developing earlier than most babies do, Morgan just… well… doesn’t want to get their hopes up too high. God forbid he puts too much pressure on Hank to be The Best™, and doesn’t let the kid be himself.

Morgan strapped the baby into his little carrier, but faced him inside so that his little face could stay against his chest. It calmed Hank out of his crying fits to hear his father’s heartbeat. Morgan rubbed his hand over Hank’s soft baby hair and kissed it before closing and locking the car door, heading into the doctor’s office with him.

The doctor was waiting for them with a big smile and an even bigger green puppet named Vicky the Vaccination Viper, and over the past few months, Hank has come to be wary of it. Dr. Cervantes bopped the cute little snake puppet around Hank’s face until he started to smile. It took a bit of time, but he did. She made a funny little voice and asked Morgan to interact with it, and he did. Morgan asked Vicky the Viper how she felt about the end of the current football pre-season, and while Hank was distracted, Doc C got Hank with the PCV and the Hib in each arm so quickly he almost missed it. Almost. The pain was secondary with him. He blinked slowly for a moment and started doing that wind up cry again while Dr. Cervantes patted Band-Aids over the marks.

Once the doctor was done with the bandages, Morgan pulled Hank close to him and patted his back, heart breaking in his chest as he watched his son wail with pain and confusion. He pressed his nose into Hank’s soft hair and  bounced him a little in his arms, shushing him gently, “Okay, sweetheart. Okay. I know it hurts. I know. It’s gonna be okay. The worst part is over, man. It’ll be cool. I got your baba in the baby bag. Yeah? I know you’re gonna like that. And, Uncle Spence is coming over tonight, so y’all can play and hang out and have fun--”

Hank cut him off with a loud scream, and Morgan kissed his forehead and held him closer, “Aww, no, honey. I know. It sucks. It’s gonna be fine. You’re gonna be fine. This is keeping you healthy. I promise.” Morgan glanced up at Dr. Cervantes, “Any words of wisdom, Doc?”

She smiled softly, reaching over to rub the baby’s back, “A cool cloth over the injection site is going to help with the swelling and cause a bit of relief. And, you have that baby Motrin at home.”

Morgan sighed past Hank’s cries and asked, “What about the crying I called you about?”

“That depends.” Dr. Cervantes shrugged, her ponytail swaying as she stood and picked up her disposable needles and placed them in the right trash can, “Is he becoming colicky or is it the same as it was when we last spoke?”

Morgan replied, “It's not that he's crying too much. But, is it weird that he… cries appropriately? You know, like he never really surprises me with it. I can always see it coming.”

Dr. Cervantes nodded as she took her blue gloves off, tossing them in the trash can, “That’s not weird at all.”

Morgan hung his head, “Are you sure?”

Dr. Cervantes replied, “I am. Crying is how he communicates with you. He’s new to this world and he’s confused and scared and trying to figure out how to exist outside of the womb. Plus, he knows that every time he cries, you respond and give him attention, which seems to be what he wants. But if his crying patterns continues to worry you, you -- well, this is going to sound cheesy -- but have you tried the Power of Love? I've been told it has magical properties.”

Morgan started to chuckle, “You’re funny.”

Dr. Cervantes continued with the gentle lift of her perfectly arched brow, “Seriously. A hug can mean the world and skin to skin contact is key. I can tell that you’re very active in his life and attentive to his needs. You take him to all of his appointments, he’s always clean and fed and he hasn’t gotten sick once. Not even a diaper rash. And, you’re affectionate and gentle with him too. He trusts you. Hell, he _loves_ you. But, if he cries only when you expect him to, he may either be rapidly becoming aware of himself socially, or… pardon me for my bluntness, but, is he receiving corrective action this early in development? That would explain a shift in his crying patterns.”

Morgan shook his head, “At twenty-weeks-old? No way.”

Dr. Cervantes frowned, “... when does he cry? What usually triggers it?”

Morgan shrugged, “When he has a wet diaper, or hears a loud noise, or responds to another crying baby, or… or when my friend leaves the house.”

Dr. Cervantes asked, “Your friend?”

“Yeah.” Morgan started to smile, “I’m friends with this guy. He’s been awesome since I had the baby, and he, uh, he comes over a lot and helps. With Hank, I mean!”

Dr. Cervantes grinned, “I’m assuming you’re talking about ‘Uncle Spencer’?”

Morgan replied with a bigger smile, “Yeah. He’s, uh, he’s a doctor. Not a medical doctor, but he’s a real smart guy. Collects graduate degrees like they’re state coins.”

“Wow. I’m impressed.” Dr. Cervantes added.

Morgan felt his face heat up while he supplied, “Oh, you don’t know the half of it. He left high school at twelve and spent the rest of his life as an academic and a Federal agent. His IQ is through the friggen roof. Plus, he’s actually a cool dude. Nice, funny, charming, cute, his nose isn’t in the air about anything. And, after I had the baby, he volunteered his time to help me out. Before he even started coming over, he read a whole library on child rearing. Gave me tips to keep Hankie safe, teaches me about development, helps keep the house clean. It was damn nice of him. And he’s real responsible and trustworthy and sweet and Hank just loves him to bits, so… yeah.”

Dr. Cervantes leaned against the counter of the sink, nodding in approval before turning to wash her hands, “Good to hear. Five months is a great time to introduce Hank to new people. How often does he come over?”

Morgan looked away shyly, “Uh… well…”

Dr. Cervantes dried her hands with a paper towel from the rack above the sink, “...Mr. Morgan, is everything alright?”

Morgan nodded, “Yeah! Yeah. Um… he comes over four times a week.”

Dr. Cervantes tossed out the paper towel, “That’s nothing to have reservations about. It’s good for Hank to have a consistent role model in his life if you’re ready for one. Especially if it’s a man that you like and trust as much as he does.”

Morgan sighed as he confessed, “Yes, but Spence stays twelve hours a day.”

Dr. Cervantes blinked, “...oh. Does he stay overnight?”

Morgan answered, “Yeah.”

Dr. Cervantes asked cautiously, “And, does he aid in putting Hank to sleep?”

Morgan patted his cranky baby’s head gently, “Yep. Every time.”

Dr. Cervantes nodded as she pulled her clipboard off of the chair, taking the pen out from the top of it and scribbling something down, “Okay. And, what about his mother? Is she spending more time with him?”

If Morgan could laugh aloud, he would. He hasn’t seen this little of her since they were dating. Morgan answered honestly, “Ah… not really that much recently. Maybe. She's kinda been getting her groove back at work, which is super important to her, and with her being the sole breadwinner and all, I don't wanna fuck with it by asking her to step away. Last time I did… it didn’t really end well, so I’ve been making due.”

Dr. Cervantes asked as she made notes on her clipboard, “And, I hope you don’t mind me asking how much time she spends with him when she’s not at work.”

Morgan cast his glance to the floor as he confessed, “I mean, she works thirteen hour days, and she’s on salary ever since she got promoted to Head Nurse, so she’s usually in meetings or doing phone counselling when she's not at the hospital. She’s rarely not working, but we do have dinner together as a family. Sometimes. Or lunch. But, it’s… tense because… well, lately, we… God -- you’re not going to tell her any of this, right?”

The doctor shook her head, “Absolutely not. You have the right to confidentiality here.”

Morgan sighed, “Me and Savi… we been havin’ a hard time. At home. Maybe it’s the baby, I don’t know. But we haven’t been able to see eye to eye in what feels like forever.”

Dr. Cervantes nodded as she took another note, “Do you think Hank knows?”

Morgan glanced up at the ceiling as he gritted out the answer, “No doubt in my mind.”

Dr. Cervantes added, “Okay, and how does Hank react?

“When we’re _fighting?_ ” Morgan lowered his head in shame, “He lets out this… just… _blood curdling_ scream. It's like he's in pain or something, you know? Like it hurts him too. And, I can't keep hearing that. I just can not handle it, so I kinda just shut down and let her win to get it done with so that I can comfort him. It's just the fact I'm the reason he's making that freaked out noise… I’d never forgive myself if he gets used to feeling like that around me. I’m supposed to be caring for him. Loving him. And, I just worry that he doesn’t know that… that I... that I love him.”

Dr. Cervantes nodded again.

Morgan bowed his head sheepishly, “...so, I'm a shitty parent, right? That's what you're writing?”

The doctor shook her head, “No, Mr. Morgan. Absolutely not. I am just making developmental notes for Hank. So that we can plan out some healthy steps forward.”

Morgan added, “Okay, because I want you to know, he's a happy kid. He really is. And, he's great when I'm with him by myself or when I'm out in public or if I'm with Spencer for a bit -- damn, how he lights up. Those two already bonded and it’s… well… I thank God for it. Hank makes this loud, happy giggle when he sees him, it’s just...” Morgan started to smile, “It gives me hope, you know? That I’m not messing the kid up before he even gets a shot.”

Dr. Cervantes started, “That's the third time you've brought Uncle Spencer up in relation to Hank’s emotional security. Would I be reaching by assuming he is stepping up as a possible third guardian?”

Morgan blinked, “W-well, I don’t know if that’s--”

She continued, “May I ask you a series of questions about him? Just for a moment?”

Morgan felt his pulse pick up. His hands were twitching and a lump was rising in his throat. Morgan glanced around for the door, just to make note of an exit. He's anxious. He doesn’t know why. Hank was starting to quiet down though. That was good. Morgan continued to rock the baby in his arms as he replied, “Uh… yeah. Shoot.”

Dr. Cervantes asked, “Does he help you provide a place for the child to live?”

Morgan answered honestly, “No. No, my wife handles the mortgage and groceries. Government check takes care of the rest of the bills.”

Dr. Cervantes nodded and made a note, “And, does he maintain enough contact with Hank to know his abilities, limitations, needs, opportunities, and physical and mental health?”

Morgan rubbed Hank’s back, “Well, he, uh. Yes.”

“Hey, that’s fine, Mr. Morgan. There are no wrong answers.” Dr. Cervantes smiled, “Does he take reasonable care of Hank’s personal property like his toys, clothes, or blankets?”

Morgan shrugged, “I mean, he helps keep the place tidy. And, he does a mean load of laundry. He organized Hank’s dressers last week while I took a nap -- which I just started doing a bit ago after he forced me into it, by the way --  and I swear to God, it’s impossible to lose anything. And… now that you mention taking care, Spencer does get him gifts. Like bears and onesies and stuff. He brought over this little tiger about two weeks ago and Hank cries if it’s not right next to him. I had to put it in his bath yesterday to keep him calm. Drying it was a bitch.”

She made another note, “Does he apply any money to the current needs for support, care, education, and welfare for Hank?”

Morgan clenched his jaw, “Well…”

Dr. Cervantes gave him a gentle smile, “There’s nothing wrong with needing a bit of help every now and then. Babies come with a lot of hidden expenses.”

Morgan took a deep breath, “He, uh, he helped me get a few discounts for Hank’s formula and clothes and diapers. And, he bought a bunch of books to help us teach him how to read and count. And, he thinks I don’t notice, but… God, this is embarrassing...”

Dr. Cervantes added, “It’s alright, Mr. Morgan. Everything you say here is completely confidential.”

Morgan looked away from her, a bit ashamed to admit, “After I told him I might have trouble using my pension to save for his college while paying for the things Hank needs now, I started finding extra twenties in my pockets and catching them hiding around the house. Once or twice is normal, but it’s happened to me like six or seven times since our talk. The wiley son of a bitch has been sneaking them into my wallet too to mix it up and keep me from noticing it, but I know it’s him. I know.”

Dr. Cervantes nodded as she took down a note, “And, have you asked him to stop?”

Morgan shook his head in contempt, “...I haven’t.”

Dr. Cervantes asked, “And, do you suspect he has anything set aside for Hank’s future needs?”

Morgan chuckled wistfully, “Oh, definitely. He told me he could get Hank into Yale with one phone call. Shit, he’s not even worried about it. Sometimes… when Hank takes his nap we like to imagine how he’ll be when he’s older. When he turns two or five or thirteen. How he’ll act in middle school, how he’d treat his senior year, what college he’d go to, what hobbies he might pick up. We’re just so excited to get to know him, you feel me? We see him all the time, but we don’t know what he’s thinking or who he is. And, Spencer plans to be around for it all. To help us guide him and care for him. And, I’m thankful for that.”

Dr. Cervantes scribbled a bit longer and set the clipboard down beside her, “Well, Mr. Morgan, he seems like a very good friend. He must care for you and Hank… immensely. But, he seems to be doing more than most. This may sound strange, and pardon me if I offend by asking such a personal question, but is there any way he may be taking the interim for Hank’s mother while she’s working?”

Morgan was gobsmacked. He stared at her in shock, head tilted back as he took in what she had said to him.

She raised his hands softly, noticing his expression, “I… I’m sorry. I overstepped, just--”

Her voice quieted in Morgan’s head. He barely even heard her. Her words sounded muffled and far away, like he was eavesdropping on his own conversation. Morgan didn’t say a thing as she rambled on with her apologies, and the truth crawled out of his throat like a wretched spider from a cave as he mumbled out an egregious, “Yes.”

“Oh.” Dr. Cervantes lowered her hands, blinking slowly, “… okay.”

Morgan remained quiet, training his eyes back onto the floor and refusing to catch her glance. If he doesn't look at her, maybe he can go on pretending that he didn't just say that.

Dr. Cervantes nodded gently, “Well, then, I would need to take his information down as a third emergency contact for the baby. Do you have his phone number and home and work address?”

Morgan stayed silent.

Dr. Cervantes added, “Mr. Morgan, I know that this isn’t typical, but there is nothing wrong with having an alternative style to parenting. Although, with how involved your wife is or isn’t with raising the baby and with the answers you provided about Dr. Spencer, I would suggest a bit of family counselling--”

Morgan pulled Hank to his chest, strapping him into the carrier, jostling the whining baby into a louder cry.

Dr. Cervantes struggled to finish her sentence around his hasty movements, “--between the three of you. It seems like there may be overdue conversations to be had, and they could offer you some exercises in communication that would be instrumental in--”

Morgan finished strapping in the baby, and grabbed his baby bag off of the chair beside him.

She continued, “--keeping everything open and honest in your unique style of parenting and keeping Hank in a stable household while you three figure out what works for you--”

“Hank’s household is plenty stable!” Morgan said sharply as he stood, straps secure and tightened around his back as he struggled with her words. He looked into her well-meaning brown eyes and replied, “And, I know things aren’t perfect, but Hank is happy. And Spencer, I… I need him. Raising this baby is the hardest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever done in my life, and it's not like Savi is stepping up to the plate… I can rely on him to steady me and keep my head on straight and be there for my health and the baby’s health and the fact that he completely and totally has Hank’s back as well as mine -- he’s looking out for us, okay?! He’s the glue holding everything together! He’s always been that for me! Always! And… th-- there’s _nothing_ wrong with that! Okay?!” Morgan’s eyes grew wide with exasperation, “I didn’t ask my wife to... just... and… Spencer is…”

Dr. Cervantes asked, “What is he, Mr. Morgan?”

Morgan looked away from her once more, feeling a clenching in his throat that felt like shame, and he didn’t understand why, but he needed to leave. Now.

So, he did.

 

\---

 

Two sleepless days later, Hank was in the middle of his bottle when there was a knock on the door. Morgan got up from the couch, and Hank made a small coo of annoyance as he stood and continued to drink from his bottle, holding it up with his tiny hands. Morgan cradled him and headed to the door, unlocking and opening it to a rush of his wild haired friend pushing past him and into the house. Before Morgan could say a word, Reid was already out of the room.

Reid called back quickly, “HiDerekI’mSorryJustGiveMeASecondIHaveToPeeSoBadI’llBeRightBackISwearJustASecondOhMyGodOhMyGod.”

Morgan closed the door and chuckled, “Hello to you too.”

The bathroom door down the hall slammed shut and moments later, Morgan heard a loud and relieved, “Jesus Fucking CHRIST!”

Morgan locked the door and headed back to the couch, eye on Hank’s bottle as the baby nursed it. He helped Hank keep the bottle up and supported his head, waiting calmly for Reid to leave the bathroom. After waiting for a minute, Morgan took away the bottle. Hank started to cry, but Morgan held him up and leaned him against the burping cloth, patting his back softly, “Come on, man, you gotta breathe at some point. You can’t just chug it like that. You’re gonna get bubble guts and spit it all back up. And speaking of chugging stuff, I really hope you stop being good at that before college.”

A short while later, Reid walked back into the room looking a little tired but definitely relieved as he leaned against the door frame, “Sorry about that. I’ve been drinking more water like you asked, and it feels like I’m running to the bathroom every five minutes. This is exhausting.”

Morgan patted Hank’s back, turning to glance at his disheveled friend, “How many times are you used to going?”

Reid turned a little pink, “I don’t know. Around two… three times a day maybe.”

Morgan gave Reid a worried look.

Reid shifted against the wall nervously, “Don’t give me that. I’m making healthier choices, okay? I know we didn’t get to start working out because I’ve been on back to back cases, but I tried to make some changes. Isn’t that commendable?”

Morgan rolled his eyes, “You’re drinking the recommended amount of water for a human being to stay alive, not winning a Nobel Peace Prize. Chill out.”

" _You_ chill out." Reid stuck his tongue out at Morgan

Morgan chuckled, “Real mature.”

Reid strolled over to the couch and sat down close next to him, holding his hands out for the baby, “Can I see him?”

Morgan shrugged and passed Hank over to Reid, being sure to keep the bottle away from the baby’s grabby hands. Hank noticed Reid’s face as he changed hands and he lit up. The baby started clapping and laughing, reaching his tiny fingers out to Reid’s chin. Reid grinned broadly and looked down at Hank, holding him to his chest, “Hey, buddy! What’s up? How've you been?”

Hank patted Reid’s cheek with his little hand, giggling loudly and spitting up a little. Reid ran his thumb over Hank’s ear as he supported his head as Morgan wiped the spit up from the baby’s chin, “Hi, Hankie. I missed you so much. How am I supposed to get through the day without that little smile, huh? How? I’m giving you seventeen lines of space, show your work and explain your answer.”

Morgan nudged Reid’s shoulder fondly, unbelievably happy to see them together again. It does something to his heart watching the two. Reid makes this amazing face when he looks at Hank. Morgan can’t help but smile. Reid loves Hank. It’s obvious. And, Morgan is glad it’s so because Hank loves him too. Gosh, it was a bitch putting Hank to sleep without Reid every other night, but when Reid is gone for long stretches of time… he’d never been through that with Hank before. Reid was on a case in Alaska, and then had to turn and hightail it to New Mexico for the last two weeks.

It was a rough one, Morgan can tell. He knows that face anywhere. Reid’s not giving him eye contact quite yet, but when he does, it’ll be all she wrote. Over the weeks Reid hadn’t said much about the case during their nightly calls -- no matter how much Morgan probed. All he told him was that there were children involved. Reid struggled with those. And, the death toll had crept up from four to nine while they were looking. Morgan already knew that Reid was feeling low about that, beating himself up for the loss of life that occurred as the team raced against a clock that only the unsub held. A few nights ago, Reid broke down during their call. He went quiet after Morgan asked him how the case was going, and Morgan sat on the phone with him in silence as the young doctor sobbed, failing at concealing the fact that he was mourning the loss of the kids he’d failed to protect. Morgan stayed quiet while he’d cried. He knew that Reid didn’t much like to be coddled, especially when feeling emotionally vulnerable. But, after his cries had subsided, he sniffed and asked Morgan how Hank was doing, and Morgan could talk about that for ages. Reid didn't want to answer his question right now, and Morgan respected that. It took a short while, but Morgan managed to turn those tears to laughter. He knew that Reid felt wrong about feeling any type of personal happiness while trying to find a serial killed with an appetite for children, so Morgan made sure to remind Reid that he was human. He needed to take care of himself during this, and remembering the beautiful things in life do not invalidate the strict mindset he needed to keep in this sensitive situation. Reid deserved to smile, and Morgan made sure he did.

Even now, Reid held the hurt tightly behind his eyes, and focused on soaking up all of the joy coming off of Hank. Morgan wrapped an arm around Reid and the young doctor looked over at him reflexively, smiling gently. Gosh, he was so… beautiful. He was always beautiful. Sometimes, it hits Morgan hard, and he has trouble catching his breath. Right now was one of those moments. So, instead of egging it on, Morgan nudged his forehead against Reid’s temple and glanced down at his son. His happy, smiling, giggling son. Morgan’s heart sang in his chest as he watched his boy light up in Reid’s arms, “We missed you, kid.”

Reid leaned his back into Morgan’s chest and cradled the baby, running his large hand over Hank’s soft hair as he said with a broken voice, “I missed you guys too.”

Morgan pulled Reid in tighter. Reid was fighting tears, and Morgan knows what that sounds like. Petting Reid’s curls, Morgan continued, “Hank’s started babbling more.”

Reid gasped, turning to look Morgan in the eyes, “Shut up, no he hasn’t!”

Morgan grinned, “Oh, yeah. He says ‘meh wah wum’ now. Savi thinks he’s saying ‘Mom’, but that’s crazy because he’s going to say ‘Dada’ first and that’s the end of it. Right, Hank?”

Reid laughed, a bright and gentle sound. Morgan surrendered himself to the laugh, smirking as the laugh took Reid’s breath away for a moment, cutting off his voice in between his breathy noises. Morgan could feel his heart growing in his chest at the sound. He missed it dearly.

Morgan buried his face in Reid’s hair and said into it, “Aww.”

He felt Reid's jaw shift and move under his face as Reid let out a shy laugh, "What?"

Morgan tapped Reid with his forehead and replied, "Nothing. Just you."

“Mmmhmm.” Reid nudged Morgan with his shoulder, “So, I brought you back something from New Mexico. Hank too. It’s in my car.”

Morgan sighed against Reid’s soft neck, “Oh, God, what is it?”

Reid smirked, playing with Hank’s tiny hands, “I got you some top notched locally brewed cervesas and one of those state caps you like. I know you were missing Alaska. And, Hankie… I got you a really cute new sleep set and some Mandarin and Spanish baby books. Because if we’re going to be teaching you English, we might as well cover the other two most spoken languages on the globe, right?”

Morgan sighed, “ _Spencer_. I’m not teaching him Mandarin.”

Reid shrugged, “I know. I was planning on doing it.”

Morgan rubbed Reid’s shoulder and pulled his face out of the young doctor’s hair, “No, I meant… I want to raise him a bit more normal. Most American children aren’t tri-lingual, Spence. And, I want him to get along with kids his age. You’re doing that running thing again, man. He needs slow steps. Chances are he doesn’t have a mind like yours. He's gonna learn at a different pace than you did, and I don't want him to get frustrated.”

Reid nodded, eyes cast downward in disappointment as he responded, “Of course. I’m sorry. I… I don’t know what I was thinking.”

As he watched Reid take the news, Morgan thought about it for a long minute. He imagined his son at five, having a full conversation in Spanish with Reid about how much he didn’t want to eat his peas. He imagined a fourteen-year-old Hank bringing back his elective language tests home with straight A’s. He then imagined Hank writing out his fluencies on his resumes and college applications, a silver haired Reid giving him high fives as he congratulates him in Mandarin at his high school graduation. Morgan took a deep breath, adding, “I mean, it’s not necessarily a _bad idea_. Just, maybe we see how he is with English first and if he takes to it quick… we add another language when he’s around three. I’m not saying throw the books away, just keep them around and we’ll use them later, okay?”

Reid glanced back at Morgan with excitement in his eyes, “So, I can do it?! I can teach him Spanish and Mandarin?!”

Morgan chuckled, “How about we wait until he says his first word in English and we’ll take it from there?”

Reid beamed down at Hank, “You’re going to be the coolest kid in school--” Reid gasped as he let out a proud smirk, “Maybe even Valedictorian.”

Morgan watched as Reid spoke to his son, rubbing his shoulder, “If he gets picked on, I’m kicking your ass.”

Reid grinned over at Morgan, “Come on, Derek. I can see it now. He's so bright already. Just wait. He'll be amazing. All the teachers will love him -- maybe even more than his classmates.”

Morgan added, “If the teachers love him more than the students, I’m kicking _my own_ ass.”

\------

 

They put Hank to sleep around 7:30pm, and as he snoozed in Morgan’s arms in his new cute little teddy bear sleep set, Reid finished his story. Looks like Goldilocks’s tale will be cut short. The little boy was out like a light. Morgan got up gingerly from the rocking chair and walked him over to his crib, laying him down gently. Hank continued to sleep, tiredly reaching out for his little stuffed tiger. Reid leaned over the crib and took the tiger he’d gotten him last month and placed it on Hank’s chest. The baby curled his arms around it and smiled a little in his sleep. Morgan and Reid watched him rest for a moment, and as the watched, Reid rested his head on Morgan’s shoulder, whispering, “Have you ever seen anything more beautiful?”

Morgan placed his head on top of Reid’s, “No, and I never will.”

Minutes later, they walked to the kitchen, taking the baby monitor with them. They heated up some leftovers and cracked open a couple of the beers Reid had snuck across state lines. They were cold from an hour in the freezer, crisp, bubbly, sharp. That hoppy IPA bite was delicious and easy to sip. Went well with the zesty pasta Morgan had made the night before.

They sat on the couch, chatting about current events and lamenting over the nightly news. Before long, Reid had some sauce on his chin, and Morgan wanted nothing more than to lean over and wipe it off with his thumb. He instead gestured to his own chin and told Reid he had a little schmutz.

Another beer later, they were laughing about something, close and smiling, they basked in each other’s company. The news for the day had ended, but the two barely even noticed, wrapped up in their own conversation about the correct pronunciation of the name of the most recent employee to be fired from the White House. Reid does this little twitch on the left side of his lip when he says words that start with “H”. He tucked his hair behind his ear nine times since they sat down. He turned the remote in his hands twice before answering each question, and presses his socked toes against the couch before looking Morgan in the eyes. Morgan watched these tics and reminded himself that even though he had retired, he regularly had to remind himself to stop profiling.

Maybe it's because Reid's been gone so long. Maybe it isn't. He doesn’t even know why he does it, but he slips into it sometimes. He’d be having a normal conversation with someone and start counting how many times they break eye contact and try to notice their stimulatory actions. The woman at his bank places her left thumb against the back of her wedding ring when he flirts with her. The mail man furrows his brows when he shakes Morgan's hand. His elderly neighbor bites the inside of her cheek whenever a car drives down their sleepy street and touches her skirt whenever she talks to Reid.

Morgan tries to stop doing it, he really does, but in this moment, all Morgan could think about was Dr. Cervantes.

_He seems to be doing more than most._

_Would I be reaching by assuming he’s stepping up as a possible third guardian?_

_Is there any way he may be taking the interim for Hank’s mother while she’s working?_

Oy, Morgan wishes he could take that ‘yes’ back. Swallow it back into his mouth and go on with his day as if he hadn’t sad a word. But, he did. Why? Because it’s true, okay? Reid is just so damn good with the baby. Hank loves him to pieces. Reid cares about him and treats him with kindness and respect and regard for his well being. He’ll cook, he’ll clean, he’ll memorize bedtime stories.  He’ll force Morgan to take a break, talk him down from his anxiety attacks, sooth him with smiles, and bring out the sunshine every time he so much as looked at Morgan. And the hugs? Sweet Christmas, the hugs nowadays have been downright cuddly. Reid let Morgan twine his arms around his body and melted into it. He would curl into the space between Morgan’s shoulder and jaw and place his lips at the base of his neck. Then, they’d shuffle closer and whisper lightly to each other about how it won’t be long until Reid comes back, sending hushed promises back and forth.

It’s unhealthy, Morgan knows. I mean, for the love of Pete, he’s _married_ and he has a _baby_ with _his wife._ This couldn’t get more confusing. But, alas, here we find ourselves. In the middle of some sort of crisis brought on by a doctor who stated nothing but the obvious, glaring, uninhibited bare naked truth. Reid matters to Morgan in a way that morphed throughout their relationship when it spanned from work-appropriate, to acquaintance-like, to casual, to friends, to family to whatever the hell is going on between them now.

Reid pushed his hair behind his ear one more time as he laughed behind the beer bottle he’d lifted in front of his face while they were talking. They sat close, sipping their beers as Reid brought up a lighthearted topic, “So, how are you doing? You know, with your anxiety?”

Morgan set his beer bottle onto the table in front of the couch, leaning back in his grey tee shirt as he answered, “Going for the heavy hitters today, huh?”

Reid shrugged his shoulders and answered honestly, “I’m not allowed to be worried about you?”

Morgan looked away, “Don’t be worried. It’s fine. I’m doing fine.”

Reid blinked slowly. He wasn’t convinced. "Derek."

After a long pause in which Morgan tried to stare him down in attempt to get him to change the subject, Morgan caved and answered honestly, “I… went off my meds.”

Reid asked simply, “I know, I can tell.”

Morgan squinted, “How?”

Reid leaned his head against the back of the couch casually, “A magician never reveals his secrets.”

Morgan sighed, “Well, you don’t have to go reading into it. It’s just… I’ve been getting nightmares again. About the field. And, I woke up yelling at some point and woke Hank. So, he’s crying and I’m useless and my wife hadn’t come back from work. I can’t make myself get out of bed and it all just barrel rolled into this dark place that I really don’t enjoy, and it’s just best if I’m off the pills, you know? So that I can sleep. And so that Hank can sleep. And, Savi… she just doesn't get it, you know? She tried to be supportive once, but it's not really her, you know? She got over it real quick, and now she’s just... cancelling my talks with Maryanne and... sleeping in the guest room--” Morgan watched as Reid’s expression changed to one of concern to one of genuine confusion.

Reid cocked his head to the side, “I’m sorry, what?”

Morgan rolled his eyes, “Just forget about it.”

Reid shook his head, sitting up in a more alert position, “Let me get this straight, you’re waking up screaming from nightmares, and Savannah is cancelling your appointments with your psychiatrist and sleeping in the guest room?”

Morgan sighed, “I told you I didn’t want to get into this.”

“Dammit, Derek. I don’t know how many times I have to say it. You’re not a burden.” Reid reached forward and touched his friend’s knee, “You need to be supported, listened to, cared for. Just like everybody else, especially when you’re feeling vulnerable. Have you… have you even told her what’s wrong?”

Morgan hung his head, grounded by the simple touch, “No.”

Reid let out a frustrated breath of air, “Then tell me. Tell me what’s scaring you.”

Morgan felt his eyes flutter closed as he resisted Reid’s request, “No.”

Reid pressed his hand against Morgan’s cheek tentatively, “I’m not going to judge you, okay? If anything, I’ll understand. It’s okay. These things are so much bigger in our heads. Once we say things out loud they lose their power over us.”

“Kid, I....” Morgan opened his eyes slowly, catching Reid’s warm but concerned stare, “I got jumped in the middle of the night, dragged into a cabin, and tortured. I had to protect my son in utero from a man who had friends that know about me. And who I am. And where I live. And what if… what if they’re so quiet that they don’t wake me. And what if… what… Hank could..” Morgan hung his head and clenched his jaw, “I can’t afford to be too tired, Spencer. And, I know you killed him. You ended it and I love you for that.” Reid glanced away from Morgan’s face. He never really got comfortable with the “K” word. He never wanted to what what it felt like to end a person’s life, but this line of work made that feeling all too real. Morgan reached up and placed his hand over Reid’s as he finished, “But, that’s just it. Anxiety doesn’t listen to logic. It listens to fear. I thought I was safe and I wasn't. I have years of training and two black belts, and at the end of the day, my family is still at risk. No matter what happens, Hank's life is not guaranteed. I can't always protect him. Not from Scratch, not from any of the sick bastards that we put away, not from a racist dickwad with a badge, no one. Okay? I admit it. I'm scared. And that doesn’t go away easy.”

“For what it's worth, I understand most of where you're coming from and if you ever need someone to talk to about it, you know where I live. Plus, I have a gun in the guest room and I saw the one you have hidden under the coffee table. Just in case.” Reid’s skin flushed a pale pink, the blush creeping up from his neck to his jaw. It’s because Morgan is touching him. Morgan noticed that he had this effect on Reid pretty early on. It was impossible not to pick up on. Reid always seemed slightly uncomfortable in his own skin. His coyness could have been misconstrued for anything, especially when around Morgan. The older man can't help that he looks like all of the boys in high school that made his life a living Hell. But, it all clicked sometime in 2006. When accidentally meeting Reid’s old flame in New Orleans those many years ago, Reid gave Morgan a curt, embarrassed monologue about sexuality being fluid and life being short and how comfort can be found in the arms of a man or a woman depending on how open you are to it and how what you do with that comfort all depends on you. And, then Morgan touched his shoulder to reassure him, and Reid blushed a quick red before slipping out of Morgan's touch and scratching behind his neck as he changed the subject. It hit Morgan like a ton of bricks. Reid thinks he’s hot. Or, he once did. That’s no problem.

Many people choose to befriend people that they (in some form) are attracted to whether it be sexually, aesthetically, or personally. Morgan knew in an instant that he found Reid checking each and every one of those boxes in his mind, but he had no clue that he had the ability to check Reid’s boxes as well.

Or maybe it wasn’t that at all. Maybe Morgan experienced the same self doubt that people of color do when meeting someone that holds their interest. _What if he doesn’t like  black men?_ Morgan had asked himself. He shook the thought from his head. They could never date. It wouldn’t work out. What would they even talk about? The weather? Work? Their shared interests? Their love of art and culture? Food? Life? Sex? History? Family? Sure, fine, whatever. You got him. They can talk for hours.

But, Reid wouldn’t want him in the long run. Yeah, Morgan’s great for a nice roll in the sack, but that’s about it. It wouldn’t take much for him to make Reid cum; Morgan can tell you that right now. He knows for a fact that he'd lay it down so good that the poor boy would end up on his knees begging for it. Morgan couldn’t help but think about that sometimes even though he knew he shouldn’t. They were so close and had been through so much together. Morgan couldn’t bear losing him to fulfill some selfish urge. Because that’s what would happen. The sex would be amazing and they’d fall hard, but what about life? Reid is so smart and beautiful and talented and caring and sweet. He’d realize he was too good for Morgan sooner rather than later. Besides, what about Reid’s dangerous job? What about Morgan’s newfound domestic nature? What about the woman Morgan married?

He looked into Reid’s eyes, and said all he could, “Thank you.”

 

\---

  

Morgan rolled his eyes hard, hand gripping the stroller with impatience as he stared at the dressing room door, “Spencer, how many times do I have to tell you that you have weird judgement when it comes to style? It probably looks great and you’re just being difficult.”

“Oh, please. You would think I look _‘great’_ in a potato sack. I don’t trust you to give an accurate assessment.” Reid barked from the other side of the door. “And, I’m not being _difficult_. I never work out, okay? I’m going to look like a flailing idiot regardless of what I’m wearing, but I’ll be damned if I can rock neon green  with confidence.”

Morgan sucked his teeth, checking on a sleeping Hank in the stroller with a glance as he raised his voice to answer the young doctor over the incessant pounding of synth pop over the store intercom, “Just let me see it, alright. Damn. You shot down three other outfits in there and I haven’t seen a single one of them. I’m starting to think you don’t even want to work out.”

Reid sighed loudly, “I do, Derek. I do. But just… it looks bad, alright? And I’m not embarrassing myself any more than I have to.”

A small raven haired woman strolled past Morgan with a handful of compression pants, calling out to someone named “Danny” before knocking loudly on the changing stall beside them. Morgan gave her a little bit of space and continued, “Who’s saying you’re even going to embarrass yourself in the first place? Stop putting yourself down before you even try it, kid. You’re going to do awesome and I’m going to make sure of it. Now, we have until quarter to 11 in here before I gotta wake and feed Hankie, and you know how he is when he’s post bottle, okay? He’s gonna want you. And you can’t give him his baba burps from a glorified closet.”

Reid complained, “Stop rushing me -- and don’t you pull the Hank card! Not right now! I am wearing a polyester tank top for Pete’s sake! I’m not a label freak, but I basically live in cotton. This is not easy for me. I mean the fabric alone… it’s too tight and it’s too bright and it’s not… it’s not right.”

Morgan smirked, “Well, not to fact check you or anything, but tank tops mean bare arms and bare arms means sexy. Who cares what color it is? As long as we can see biceps, forearms, and side chest you’re going to be a 10.”

Reid added with exasperation, “Oh, my God, Derek. You’re missing the point.”

They’d been arguing through a thick plastic door in a Modell’s Sporting Goods store for the last eight minutes, and Morgan’s just about had it. They strolled into the store around 10:30ish that morning and Reid has been having a fit since 10:41. Reid found issues with everything in the mens activewear section. He refused to wear shorts, hair bands, or anything tight. And, that was his first anti-list. It grew and grew the longer they stayed in the store, so Morgan just started throwing things in the cart and focused on convincing the harried doctor to calm down.

Between Hank with his rattle, Reid’s complaining, the shit he got from his wife last night, and the looming threat of unnecessary incrimination that accompanies sales associate employees stalking him around the store, Morgan was quickly losing patience. He was tired. He only slept four hours last night.

He woke up to Savannah crawling in bed with him at 3am. She turned on the light, started a fight with him over his meds, and he ate her pussy just to save himself from having to keep talking to her. He pretended to give a shit, relaxing his jaw and focusing on keeping his eyes closed and his breathing even as he swirled his tongue around. He buried his face in her like he could gag himself with it, careful not to bother her stitches as he honed in on her wet clit. She didn't really say much during, thank God. Well, she was a little loud when she finished. That worried him. He didn't want to wake the baby, and he _damn_ sure didn't want Reid to hear him giving his wife an orgasm. Through the sheets, he could see that she had one braid left. Whelp... he decided to give her another orgasm. Maybe three is the trick. Yeah. That'll be good. She'll definitely be done by the third. And, halfway into round three, lo and behold, he felt two steady hands on his head above the covers. 

He spit hard and quiet into his hand after making her cum again and made a motion like he was tugging his pants up. By the time he ducked his head back from the sheets, she was braided and wrapped and ready for sleep, asking if he wanted anything. Morgan told her he was already taken care of, gesturing to the pool of spit in his hands that he wiped up with a tissue from his bedside table. Yeah, he was well versed in faking his own orgasms. She never questioned it. So with that, the light shut off, and they laid back down beside each other.

Her bonnet was soft under his chin as he held her close. She smelled like his cocoa butter. He could feel her hot silk nightie against his skin. Morgan remembers loving this version of her so much that he brushed aside the signs he’d been studying for twenty years. He pulled wool over his own eyes, led by his desperate need to be loved and loved hard. If he really looked at it, she'd been telling him all along how their relationship was going to go. Morgan just felt like he could handle it. I mean... she was just different. Different from all the other girls he'd ever been with. She was so damn quiet and beautiful and strong. She didn't need him. So, he did everything he could to make sure she did.

She wasn’t dangerous, and he knew that. He’d feel safe at home with her and when he looked into her eyes, he didn’t see a drop of malice. Just… they floated on varying frequencies. Sometimes, they were linked like a chain, trading banter and quips and kisses like they were born to flirt with each other. Her soft almond gaze would drag him across the room, and she was always thinking similarly. But, other times. Other times, he’d be on a cloud while she’s in a ditch. When she gets frustrated, she shuts down and goes silent. And, when she’s pissed, she curses him out as if he deserved it.

The good times greatly outweighed the bad though. And, while Morgan easily spotted her exhibiting toxic behaviors after he had gotten her pregnant, he let them go. Why? He has no idea. Maybe he felt as though he was strong enough to endure it, or through some miracle, maybe one day she’d change. Maybe if he stopped dicking around and gave her a key to his apartment, she’d start to let him in and return his kindness again. Maybe, if he gave her tri-weekly sex that blows her mind, it would happen. If he gave her security and honesty. If he gave her a home. If he gave her a ring. If he gave her a son. Maybe the good would outweigh the bad again. They’d be a family. A _complete_ family. With a mommy and a daddy and a precious little boy in a nice home in a nice neighborhood with a father that stays retired to keep them safe and loved. How bad can it be when you have all of that?

You’d be fucking surprised.

He started standing up for himself a bit more after Hank turned a month old. He doesn’t know what triggered it, but he knew that he wasn’t going to settle for whatever the hell she was throwing at him -- which at the time happened to be two pillows, a balled up sweatshirt, and the stuffed bunny that Garcia bought for Hank. He didn’t throw anything back but words. He opened it up and let her have it. He told her that he was sick and tired of the criticism and the attitude and the bullshit tone she’d get with him when he’s not even doing anything. And, if she throws one of Hank’s toys again, he’s going to talk back to her the way she talks to him, and he knew she didn’t want to hear that. She walked out of the room, and once again he had to hold Hank close as he cried. Meanwhile, it was seven o’clock at night and he hadn’t started dinner. The laundry wasn’t done, and the living room was a mess. He hadn’t slept since 2am the night before, and he was off of his meds so that he doesn’t get his nightmares. After all, he can’t care for his son if he fears his own bed. Man, he just needed sleep. Rest. Actual respite. Something. Anything. Like that feeling that he gets right after he wakes up when he doesn’t remember why he’s so miserable. Fuck, he was drunk on it. And, when it faded, he knew it would feel like forever between this sleep and the next. And, he’d fall deeper. Too wired to rest, too anxious to start to do chores, too ashamed to reach out to his friends because his wife told him not to, too tired of being snatched from his daily life to feel his heartbeat pound in his chest as he fights tears on the shower floor.

Now, after they fight, she leaves the house. Just walks past him without saying a damn word and slams the front door until he hears tires rolling out of the driveway. And, Hank would cry and cry and cry. Morgan held him to his chest, because that was the only thing he could do. He’d brush his hand across his son’s baby soft hair and whisper to him that it was all going to be okay. That it won’t be like this forever. That they have each other and such privilege. That most kids would kill to have both of their parents together and not have to worry about where their next meal was coming from.

But, he doesn’t want to talk to his son like that. He doesn’t want him to know his pain. He just wants Hank to be happy. And while Hank has everything Morgan would have wanted as a child, he’s not happy. Not when his parents are fighting. Morgan can feel the fear and worry and frustration coming off of the baby like a wave, and that would catapult him into another attack and then he’s useless. Useless. Useless. A terrible father. A terrible husband. A terrible man.

One night, Savannah left for work after pushing her hand across Morgan’s face for breaking a plate while doing the dishes and he kept up the devil may care attitude until she left. It didn’t hurt, and he told her that if she hits him again, he’s going to tell his sisters and let them handle it. And Sarah and Desiree grew up in Chicago. They’d fuck her up for laying a hand on their little brother, and she knows it. Which is why she rolled her eyes and walked out with her trademark door slam. But, not before turning to him and saying simply, “Fine. Do it. Tell them. I’ll just... take Hank to my mom’s or to court. That sound good?” Morgan collapsed to the floor the second he heard the lock slide into place and buried his face into the damp dish rag to scream into it.

Hours later, he sat numbly on his couch, watching a two-month-old Hank play with the rattles in his little portable cradle. Hank’s eyes were filled with wonder and his mouth was open in a big smile, proudly showing off his gummy grin. Morgan’s heart clenched in his chest as he looked at his son without holding back how much he loved him. When he's around his wife, he has to butch it up around the baby and keep his emotions in to keep from hearing her mouth. But, now he smiled back at Hank. Hank threw a rubber block at him and missed. Widely. Morgan reached down to where it landed at his foot and held up the block, tossing it up into the air and catching it quickly. Hank began to laugh. Morgan nodded back at him, tickling his pudgy belly. Morgan drank in Hank's laughter like it was living energy, basking in his toothless smile. Everything’s going to be okay. He’ll put up with it for his sake. And, as long as Hank is alright, it’s going to be worth it.

The phone in his pocket buzzed, and he remembers distinctly praying that it wasn’t his wife or, God forbid his mother. He doesn't have the energy to keep throwing on a smile and lying to her. Morgan took a deep breath and pulled the phone out of his sweatpants to see it flashing the name “Pretty Boy”.

He almost dropped his phone. Somehow, charged by surprise and euphoria and ambivalence  and excitement, he swiped right and brought it to his ear, purring out, “Reid?”

Morgan could hear the smile in the kid’s voice as he answered, “Yeah, hey.”

Reid started off by apologizing and Morgan beat him to the punch. They haven’t really heard each other's voices in over a month. And, that’s all Morgan’s fault to be honest. The thought of looking at the team and talking to them when he’s like this makes him wonder if they’d be able to see through him. And, if they did, oh, the field day they would have. SSA Derek Morgan. Almost twenty years of service as a federal agent, and he married a woman who… yeah. No. So, he hid behind texts and Snapchat.

But, there was something about talking to Reid again. He knew he shouldn’t. For some reason, being around Reid whenever he was in a relationship felt weird. Reid looked at him differently, and to be honest, it was with good reason. He remembers feeling his gaze from across the room when he met Savannah, noticing his lip twitch nervously as he said 'Hello'. And, being around him for some reason felt _wrong_ in a way that didn’t resonate with the way he felt about being around his other friends. Almost like it would be deceptive to his current partner. He didn’t want to be caught talking to him, or even texting him anywhere near his significant other -- or anyone who knew that he wasn’t single. Garcia had picked up on it years ago, dragging him by his ear out of a double date misconstruing his aloofness when it came to his friendship with the young genius to be embarrassment over having such a nerdy friend. When Morgan told her that wasn’t the issue, she asked him what it was then, and he had no answer for her. He refused to look for one. He wasn’t ready to deal with that. It was too big of an issue for him to tackle, so he put it off and never did. And, to be honest--

* **_Clack_ ** *

Morgan’s head snapped up as he broke from his reverie to see an employee struggling under the weight of an armful of clothes. The young woman dropped a few hangers, making a sharp sound against the linoleum, and Morgan raced over to help her without even thinking about it. The rest of the pile in her hands collapsed  to the ground in a loud heap as her foot slipped on a pair of Stay-Dry running shorts. Morgan reached her in time enough to catch her as she flailed to the ground, but as he steadied her, he heard his son begin to cry in his stroller.

Morgan called out, “Spence, can you check on Hank? My hands are full.”

As Hank whined and sobbed, Reid answered quickly, “Yeah. Just a second.”

Morgan glanced down at the woman, setting her upright before kneeling to the ground and helping her pick up the clothes. She pushed a loose strand of midnight black hair behind her multi-pierced ear as she thanked him, joining him on the ground to collect the array of work-out gear.

She apologized quickly as she hurried to pick up a tee shirt, “I’m sorry. I thought I could carry it all in one trip, and I woke your baby--”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s fine.” Morgan shook his head, tilting his head toward the dressing room as Reid emerged from it as he tapped into an inside joke between the two, “He’s got it all handled, don’t you, _Dada_?”

Reid leaned into the stroller to pick up a fussy Hank, holding him against his chest and patting his back before checking to see if his diaper was wet, “As a matter of fact, I do.”

Morgan teased with a raise of his eyebrow, “Then, why is he still crying?”

Reid glanced up at the ceiling for a moment, “Because he hates my shirt more than I do.”

Morgan handed the saleswoman a pair of pants on a hanger, “You’re killing me.”

Reid made a mocking expression and continued to pat Hank’s fussy back as he mimicked, “ _You're killing me._ ”

Morgan replied heatlessly, “Stop mocking me, you little dork.”

Reid sent over a wink and a playful shrug.

Morgan continued to help the woman out until they’d formed a small pile. Barely a minute had passed, but Hank had already stopped crying. The baby was latched on to a small binky as he played with Reid’s hair. He petted the soft curls and tangled his little chubby fingers in them with awe. Reid looked down at Hank with a content, barely there smile. Morgan could tell that Reid was holding it in. He’d caught Reid making baby noises at him way too many times, and the kid always got embarrassed about it. He didn’t want to be made fun of for it. But, sometimes when Hank is being extra cute, Reid struggles as he resists stepping into it. This was one of those times.

He took a good long look at what Reid had on. For once, he’d gotten to see one of the options Reid was weighing in the dressing room. The boy was right. The shirt looked real bad. It was an offensive green and was definitely tailored for a much shorter and stockier man. But the shorts… the shorts were a good idea on him. They were a bit long, flirting with the base of his knee cap and revealing his shins. He has really nice calves. Wow. They are strong and thick and a little hairy. Masculine. Sturdy. Powerful. Virile. Morgan released a soundless breath from where it had been trapped deep in his lungs.

 _Mmm_.

 _He's got a place for Reid to put those legs, that's for sure_...

Whoa! No. Nope. Let's steer out of that line of thinking. This is not the time. Actually, _never_ is the time.

Morgan glanced away for a second and waited until both Reid and the woman were distracted before looking back over at him. His arms look a bit bigger than they were the last time he’d seen them. It might be Hank. Picking up a seventeen pound baby over and over again for the past few months has done wonders for his biceps. They’re not bulging or anything, but his arms are very much _there_.  And present. And accounted for. They look toned and healthy and his skin is just so soft looking, contradicting the veins in his forearms because sweet Buddha there are _veins_ in his _forearms_. He probably struggles to get his shirts on in the morning as he pulls them over the newfound changes in his shoulders and his back and his biceps and fuck look at his hair oh my God he got a haircut in New Mexico and he looks so damn good. Plus, he's carrying Morgan's son with those _arms_ and he has muscles and his legs and his hair and his arms and his posture and his lips and his jawline and his neck and his ass and his hands and his eyes and how awesome would it be to have sex with him? Morgan looked away again, swallowing over a guilty lump in his throat. He has to chill.

He bit his own lips and handed the saleswoman the rest of the clothes before standing and wiping his hands on his jeans. Morgan looked over Reid openly for a moment, exaggerating the look so that it wasn’t obvious that he had been checking Reid out a moment ago. Well, not “checking him out” checking him out. Just a regular, platonic, dude-buddy-bro-pal sort of look down. Just to make sure his outfit was okay. Which it wasn’t. Well, Reid himself looked like an entire snack as always, but that wasn’t the point.

Morgan cleared his throat and spoke out, “You’re right about the shirt. It’s a no-go. Keep the shorts though, they’re good.”

Reid raised a surveying eyebrow as he glanced down at himself, “I don’t know about the shorts. They seem a little tight.”

Morgan walked over to shift the baby into his hands, holding his arms out for Hank, “What do you mean?”

“Well, they're just a little like--” Reid passed the baby to Morgan and lifted the shirt a little to reveal the most unfairly edible hip bones in the history of edible hip bones and turned his back to Morgan, “It feels like it’s pinching me a bit here. And I know it’s nothing much now, like I can ignore it. But, if I’m moving a lot in these, it’s going to get on my nerves.”

Reid pointed to his waist and why did the Lord above give him lower back dimples? Why would He do such a thing? Those back dimples were so rude. They’re basically thumb holders that make it easier for Morgan to keep Reid’s hips in place when he’s got him bent over and open legged and stretched out to -- fuck, this trip was a bad idea. This trip was a very bad idea. Reid should have stayed in the dressing room.

Reid glanced back at Morgan, who had completely frozen in place holding his own son, and asked him, “So, final assessment. You’re the professional. What do you think? Are we going in the wrong direction or the right one?”

Morgan raised an eyebrow, “Honestly?”

Reid turned to face him, clapping his hands and opening his arms out wide for criticism.

Morgan let out a smirk and looked over his body with a long, favorable stare before whistling cheaply, “Mmm. Damn. Yes. Look at you serving body. Fuck it up, Daddy.”

Reid folded his arms, clearly not aware of what his biceps do when he stands like that, “Derek, come on. We’re in public. Rein it in.”

“Fine. Fine. Yes, you look sexy enough to have started a war in the Grecian era, but the shirt is doing you no favors. You need something longer and a bit tighter in earthy tones, because you? Are an autumn. Not a winter, which means you’re right. Neon is out.” Morgan replied, “I’m going to put Hank in the stroller and get a size up on the shorts and bring back a couple more shirts. I’ll meet you back here in five.”

Reid blinked, “Oh. Wow. That was... amazing advice." 

Morgan shrugged, "Look at me, kid. Fashion doesn't just happen. I had to study up to avoid dressing like you."

Reid rolled his eyes and held out his bare arms, "I can watch Hank while you look.”

Morgan bit his lip and looked away from Reid’s arms, refusing to go down that road again as he walked Hank to his stroller and buckled him in, “No, it’s fine. You’ve been holding him a lot anyway.”

Reid shrugged, “No more than usual. And, it’s no problem. He’s fussy when he wakes and I can keep his baby bag here while you look, so that you don’t have to lug it around.”

“Stop being so kind and considerate.” Morgan instructed, “You just got off of a crazy long case, and you’re already helping me out just by being here. Save something for yourself.”

Reid answered honestly, “Look, I get where you’re coming from. I do. But, I _want_ to hang with Hank. It’s been two weeks since I last saw him, and I know that it doesn’t seem like much, but that case was rough. Seeing all those children and being away from you guys for longer than I’m used to, I just…” Reid looked away for a moment and said quietly to the floor, “I… I was thinking about him. I missed him.”

Morgan felt a fond smile melt onto his face as he watched Reid stand sheepishly in the ugliest shirt he’d ever seen. He waited for a tired looking young man to pass him on his way to try on a pair of biker’s gear before stepping into Reid’s space with the baby. Reid looked down and caught his eye, letting out a bashful breath. Morgan leaned close and pressed a kiss to his cheek that he never should have placed there. He felt Reid’s eyes close, eyelashes fluttering gently at his brow bone. Morgan replied, “That is the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Reid leaned into him, chuckling softly, “See, this is why I don’t talk like that. You get all sappy.”

Morgan nudged Reid’s jaw and stepped back, passing him the baby, “I’m not sappy, you’re sappy.”

Reid gave Morgan a tired look as he held the baby to his chest, “Oh, don’t start.”

Morgan reached around to smack his shoulder playfully, “I’m going to go get some stuff. Five minutes. The bag has his essentials in it, and if you have to change his diaper, call me and I’ll go to the car. There’s no spot for me to change him in the men’s room.”

Reid waved Hank’s small hand, “Okay, Hank. Say ‘bye, Dad, we got this. Uncle Spencer is super responsible'.”

There was a sudden gasp from the entire dressing room, and the energy seemed to shift. From one of the stalls nearby, a man shouted out a surprised, “ _Uncle_??!  Eww! What the hell?! You two are brothers?!”

Morgan called back, “He’s a family friend. Mind your business.”

“Hella family friend!” Another dude from a further stall called out, “The way y’all was talking, I thought you two _made_ that baby.”

Another man piped up, "Speaking of, I heard you call him 'sexy'."

The first guy added, "I heard that too."

Two other men joined in with a "Yeah." and a "Mmhmm."

Reid rolled his eyes, “It's an inside joke. We just talk to each other like that.”

Another guy stated, "Yeah, but I heard some Daddy stuff going around, so explain that."

Morgan jumped in, "We don't have to explain anyth--"

The first guy spoke up, “Look, I’m just saying. I don’t even flirt with my girlfriend that hard, and we’re still in the honeymoon stage. My opinion, you two should just bang it out and get it over with before the baby mama catches on.”

Reid started to blush as the second man pitched in, “Bruh, they’d fuck so hard, they’d end up in the hospital. You heard them, they 'just talk to each other like that'. That’s too much tension, man. You ever shook up a bottle of Coke for too long and then opened that mothafucka and it sprayed all over you? That’s what they’d be. They'd have to throw the goddamn bed away, burn the sheets, whole nine.”

The dressing room broke out in a tussle of laughter.

Morgan hissed, grateful that his complexion didn’t give off his heated skin, “Man, shut the hell up and mind your own business! Damn!”

But by then the entire dressing room was cracking up laughing, one of them cackling out, “Brotha, be real with yourself and lay it down on that boy. We know you want to. I mean, shit, it’s not like he ain’t into it. Talkin' bout, 'I'll hold your baby'. He tryna have your next one.”

Reid’s eyes widened in surprise at the statement, covering Hank’s ear with his palm and looking the door, "I-I didn't mean it like--”

The guy in the stall closest to them added, "Bruh, be honest. You want to swallow that pipe. No judgement, man, just be real."

Reid squinted in confusion, "Pipe? What do you mean, 'pipe'? How does one 'swallow a pipe'?"

That got him. Morgan joined in with the other men, laughing along with them, "Alright, Spence, come on. You're making it worse."

Reid started to blush, "How? I just don't know what he means."

Morgan leaned over and ruffled his hair, "Don't worry about it."

A dude from a stall on the far left added, "Five bucks, yo! Five bucks he just touched the white dude."

Another man added, "Five? Man, you lame. I got twenty."

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading (especially after that long hiatus..... -/////-). I appreciate y'all so much. If you have any questions or suggestions, feel free to leave a comment. I love hearing from you guys.
> 
> (P.S. For those who might not know, like our precious Reid, swallowing pipe is street slang for sucking dick. LOL classy, I know. XD)


End file.
